Staring Into Open Flames
by 25ShadesOfFebruary
Summary: It starts gradually like that of a runaway snowball. Not that fast maybe, but just as uncontrollable.


**Summary:** _It starts gradually like that of a runaway snowball. Not that fast maybe, but just as uncontrollable._ **Scydia.**

 **Couple:** Scott x Lydia

 **Rating:** M; Mature

 **Show:** Teen Wolf

 **Disclaimer:** I don't own anything in regards to Teen Wolf. All associates belong to the cruel and talented mind of Jeff Davis. Just throwing that out there

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 **Staring Into Open Flames**

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 **...**

The smell of vanilla and sandalwood greets him with a seductive hello, his nose buried into the junction of her slender neck and collarbone.

He feels the rapid beat of her heart on the pad of his tongue, along with sweat and desire as he makes his way to her plush lips. Her lips feel like warmth on a winter night. Her skin gives him that rush of happiness that a touch from a first time lover would. Her skin feels soft under the pads of his calloused fingertips, as he runs them down her naked back. One hand buried deep into her strawberry blonde hair as she rides him like their lives depended on it. His other hand wrapping around her torso to keep her close.

This was wrong, really wrong. He tries to tell himself, before this started.

Before the stripping of their clothes.

Before the hickeys that covered her bare skin.

Before he attacked her breast with his tongue.

After he entered her and she let out the sweetest sound he had ever heard.

And now as she rode him.

But as he looks down at the joining of their bodies, at his dick reappearing inside of her and her loud chant of his name. He couldn't focus on why.

Expect maybe when she finally brings her head back towards him. Her eyes are open and wide, green eyes filled with lust and satisfaction that he remembers why this was a bad idea.

This was Lydia Martin.

Scott had always thought Lydia to be off limits. Save for the time when he was confused and that thing with Allison happen and he had been out of his mind. And maybe he was out of his mind now. In fact he's pretty sure he's out of his mind because he always associated Lydia with Allison and Stiles. Stiles who's had a crush on Lydia since forever now. Stiles who couldn't stop talking about Lydia for a whole summer after the first time he saw her in a bikini. Stiles, who was his best friend.

And Lydia had been the first friend that Allison made. She had talked about Lydia as much as Stiles did.

And he made this mistake once when he had been out of his mind the first time when he kissed her.

Because Lydia had always been Stiles, not literally, maybe figuratively, maybe not even that. That's just what he associated her with. Along with beautiful, talented, smart, dependable, and so many more positive words.

Stiles. Stiles had always been apart of those words to describe her.

But as he flips them over, hands intertwining, and hips thrusting against each had not been part of the words he would use to describe her.

Something like a goddess or siren with strawberry blonde curls.

He thinks as he unloads his seed into the condom with a soft groan.

He rolls from on top of her, tries to calm his breathing down without looking at her. But he sneaks a glance and he realizes this all started the night she came to his house unannounced.

 **...**

There was a tune in his head that Scott hummed to as he rode his bike down the familiar street of his neighborhood. He was coming from dinner with Kira and her parents. His lips still tingled from the new foods they had him try and Kira's lips as he kissed her goodnight. He had stopped at a stop sign and waited the required seconds to look both ways before proceeding. That was when he had spotted a car parked on the curb of his house. Seeing as it was nighttime and the car was a dark color, he couldn't exactly make out what type of model car it was. Until he drove up on it for closer inspections. That was when he noticed who was inside the car.

Lydia.

Lydia was inside with her hair braided into one long fish-bone braid down her back. She was dressed in what thought to be pajamas. Scott wasn't sure at the time because she also wore a large coat. He parked his bike on the side of his house, before he walked towards Lydia's car and taps on the driver side window.

Lydia jumped at the sound and turned her eyes, only to meet Scott's confused and caring ones. She relaxed a bit as she rolled down her window to give Scott a shaky smile.

"Lydia? What are you doing here? Is everything alright?" he asked.

"No." she tells him with a tremble of her bottom lip, like she trying to stop herself from crying.

Scott opens the driver side door. He stops himself from grabbing her into a bone crushing hug like he wants to, like she looks likes she needs. He opens the door and waits for her to step out of the car.

"Come inside." He tells her after he shuts her car door behind her and moves to walk towards the front door. She's bare footed with pajama shorts and an oversize tank top that doesn't match her shorts. She wears a long winter jacket that's not right for the summer time weather they are in right now. He had never seen her look so unlike herself before. It was alarming.

Scott pulls out the house keys from his back pocket to unlock the door. Scott lets Lydia enter his home first before he follows her in and closes the door. It was odd, seeing Lydia in his home. Not because of the unannounced visit. Nor for the clothes that she was wearing and definitely not for the reason she seek him out.

But because, Scott never imagine Lydia Martin inside of his home, voluntarily. So, the reason that she showed up to Scott's house at ten at night must have meant something was horribly wrong.

Scott sets his keys in the bowl on the end table that sits by the front door. He turns towards her, his motorcycle helmet still in his hand when he asks her. "Would you like something to drink? Water? Tea? I think we have tea or coffee?"

She doesn't turn around when he asks. Scott sees the small movement of Lydia head shaking no to his request. Scott places his helmet on the accent table that sits under the mirror to the wall next to the opening of the kitchen. He walks towards her with slow steps. He stops at the side of her, so that she can see him.

"Do you want to go to my room? Or we could talk in the living room or the kitchen." He lists off locations to her. She ignores him and starts for the stairs. Scott followed behind her until they reach the hallway. He realizes that she doesn't know the layout of his house ,so he slips past her to open up his bedroom door. Hoping it was clean enough for guest.

She walks towards him with hesitation as if she's rethinking this whole thing. And Scott pretty sure that she is. But the fact that she was still moving towards him, gave him hope. He disappears into his room and slips off his jean jacket and places its around the back of his computer chair.

When he looks up, Lydia is stationary at the door jam of his bedroom. Her pouty bottom lip inside of her mouth, her arms resting under her breast as she looks around Scott's room.

"Lydia?" he asks to get her attention and her green eyes snaps to him almost to ask 'what'. "You can sit down if you want." He informs her and she nods at his request. She takes a tentative step forward, her hands made into a fist at her sides. She crosses the room with quick steps and sits herself on the end of Scott's queen sized bed.

Scott rolls his chair close to his bed, but not close enough to invade her personal space and sits down. Waiting.

He still waiting approximately ten minutes later. He moves his body forward and opens his mouth to call her name, but she irrupts him.

"I'm having theses dreams, nightmares actually." She said meeting his eyes shortly before they shift to some other object in his room. "And it's not like a normal nightmare where you wake up and can't remember a thing. Those I can deal with no problem, but these, these are different." She informs him as she stands up and begins to pace in front of him. "Theses I can't quite figure out."

Scott leans forward, elbows on his thighs and hands clasp together. His eyes watch her walk back and forth in front of him, "Have you talk to Deaton?" he asks.

"Of course I've talk to Deaton. He didn't provide much help. I can't ask another banshee what theses nightmare means. Because the only one that I know is in jail and of the many monsters we've faced none of them have been banshees."

Scotts dark eyebrows come together in confusion as he watches her pace back and forth in his room. "Okay." he starts before he stands from his seat, slipping his hands into the pockets of his jeans. "What are the dreams about?" he asks.

Lydia doesn't stop her pacing when she answers, "Death, of course. My specialty. What else, Scott."

He nods, "Do you know who's death?"

She stops inches away from hitting the frame of his bed. She turns towards him and breathes out. Her eyes not meeting his until she finally opens her mouth to speak. Her words are shaky and panic-stricken and they almost knock Scott off his feet when he hears it. Even in the silence her words echo in his room.

"Mines. It's my death." She tells him.

 **...**


End file.
